The Ruthless Biker's Ex-Convict Bride

Chapter 4

Kael’s Point of View

When Wren tells me to stay behind, my first reaction is no. Yes, I know her name is Wren because the lady who is sleeping on the couch now called her that.

When she turns on her heel and walks out alone, something in my chest bristles. An instinct sparks in the back of my mind: people don't just walk away from me mid-conversation. I don’t know where that comes from, but it burns hot.

I don’t remember where I am or who I am, but something about her makes me want to be there for her. Something twists in my chest when I think of her out there alone.

I watched her drag the man out of the room. I didn’t question it when she told me to sit and wait. But now? I’m going to follow her.

She didn’t bother to look behind her when she got into the truck she was using, and taking that opportunity, I got in the back. It’s like I have done this so many times. It comes instinctively to me.

I stood outside as she sneaked into the room and watched how the men watched her when she walked in. I hated how most of them stared at her ass.

I might not remember much, but watching them ogle her makes something in me churn. I realize I hate seeing another man looking at her.

When I step into the space behind her, the energy shifts. The air goes taut, and the room turns on her like a pack of dogs cornering prey. I don't think it through. I'm already moving.

The first man goes down before anyone else even realizes what's happening. Then the rest of them follow, one after another. Nobody in this place expected a man like me to come to her rescue. Truth is that I didn't expect it either.

I stop trying to figure out why my body knows how to break a jaw, sweep a knee, or throw punches. I just let it happen.

I'm still in it, adrenaline humming hot in my veins and muscle memory driving every move, when Wren steps directly into my path.

She puts herself straight between me and the rest of the room. She doesn't flinch. She doesn't glance down at the bodies twitching around her boots.

I stand dead still behind her, adrenaline still thrumming under my skin. My chest rises and falls, and I feel that wet feeling around my torso again as I watch the line of her back. The light catches the sharp cut of her shoulders, trusting that I’m behind her even without ever looking back to check if I'm still there.

Something locks into place in my chest. She's mine.

She is mine to protect. Mine.

The thought shows up, dropping into my mind without knowing where it came from. I don't question it. I just know it's true. She’s mine.

Wren’s Point of View

The men step back, but Briggs keeps his eyes locked on Ash. He looks at him like he’s trying to place a face he can’t put to the name.

Does he recognize Ash? Do they know each other?

"You ride with the Reaper's people?" Briggs asks outright.

Before Ash can open his mouth, Briggs catches himself. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath about how the Reaper's reach doesn't stretch out this far, not to a town like this one. Whatever crossed his mind, he decides it isn't worth saying out loud and drops it.

I have no idea what any of that means. I file the name away, the Reaper, without asking what he meant. Could it be Ash came from there? But I shake my head. Right now, I have a bigger problem standing right in front of me.

Briggs's own wound hasn't been treated, and it shows. The skin around it has gone a dark, ugly color, and a feverish heat radiates off him that has nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Nothing moves through his operation until this is handled, which means Kara doesn't get her medicine either way.

“Fine. Let me help you with your wound, then I can buy the supplies?” I ask him, and he chuckles.

“You want to kill him too?” someone shouts behind me, and I freeze. It seems my past won’t stop haunting me.

“Please. I just need the supplies. Let me look at it, then you can give me what I came for. Please,” I plead with him.

After a moment, he nods his head. I pull off my crossbody bag, place it on the table, and get to work without being asked twice. I cut away what was done wrong by whoever tried to patch him up before, cleaning out the bad skin.

My hands don't do fine work anymore, but my fingers still remember how this is supposed to look when it's done right. I stitch him closed, clean and tight.

Briggs watches me work in silence, and Ash stands by with his hands in his pockets, watching me work on Briggs. There are two lines on his forehead, and his jaw is tight. I can’t help but look at the stain of blood on his body.

By the time I finish, something subtle has shifted in his face. Respect, maybe. Or just relief that I didn’t cut off his arm?

“Keep this dry,” I say to him, taking off my gloves as everyone in the club watches me.

“Now can I have my supplies?” I ask him, looking at his face, praying he doesn’t switch up on me.

He turns to one of his guys and tells me to give him the list, and the entire time, Ash hasn’t taken his eyes off me.

I get the supplies I came for. Before I leave, Briggs offers me work.

“I could use a doctor around here,” he says, watching me. I swallow hard because a job like this pays better than cleaning at that f*****g motel.

"I'll think about it," I tell him, making my way out.

Once we are outside, I turn to Ash. “I told you to stay with Kara.”

He just looks at me without saying a word, his eyes roaming around my face. I’m so worried that he showed up. He showed his face here.

Getting frustrated that he won’t answer, I turn on my heel and get in the truck.

**

Back home, Kara takes the medicine and stabilizes while I clean up her wound. Once she's resting easily, I sit down with Ash. I ask, "Do you know what a Reaper is?"

He shakes his head. He doesn't know. How would he know when he can’t even remember who he is?

I look at him across the table, grateful for what he did back there. Those men were ready to have a go at me.

"Your debt is canceled," I tell him softly. "You can stay as long as you need. I won't ask you to leave again."

“I can stay?” he finally speaks, and I chuckle. It’s like he only knows how to speak when it’s about staying.

“Yes. Now let me check your bandages again,” I say, getting up.

His wounds have torn open again from the fight. I pull out my supplies and set to work redressing them. As I wrap the clean bandages around his shoulders, I can’t help but think about it. He fought for me just because I was there. I haven't had that from anyone in a very long time.

“Thank you for following me,” I say, and he grunts, looking at me.

“Okay, big guy. Let’s grab something to eat. I’m starving,” I say to him, getting up. He just watches me, but I can’t help the chill that goes down my spine. I can feel him watching every move. And I can’t help but smile.

I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t keep him, but I find myself praying he doesn’t remember who he is.